


Searching

by BrittaTheBest



Category: All Creatures Great and Small (TV)
Genre: Car Accidents, Concern, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-17 02:15:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16965810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrittaTheBest/pseuds/BrittaTheBest
Summary: Tristan is late back again. When it turns out that he has been out all night, James volunteers to go out looking for him. Pre war.Originally posted on ff.net in 2011.





	Searching

**Author's Note:**

> I was 15 when I wrote this and I haven't read it or even watched the show in years but I reread it today and had to smush my face in my hands because I genuinely love it and so I thought I'd post it over here seeing as this is where I live now.

 The moon continued its haunting ascent over the hills. The clouds cleared, leaving the air uninsulated and frosty. The icy roads glistened in the moonlight.

At Skeldale House, Helen sat chewing her lip on the sofa, staring distractedly through the gap in the curtains. Siegfried, sat on the other end reading the newspaper, glanced up. He folded the newspaper into his lap and leant towards her.

"My dear Helen, whatever is troubling you? Here we are, finally a quiet evening, and rather a pretty one I might add, and you don't seem able to enjoy it at all." His brow furrowed. "What is it?"

She looked at him, and then to her lap, now chewing the inside of her mouth. "It's James. I'm certain he should be back by now. He's never usually this late."

As if to emphasise her point, the clock chimed ten.

Siegfried smiled a little. "Not to worry, my dear. You may remember that my little brother is also absent, but you don't see me letting my mind run away with itself." He patted her knee, his smile broadening. "James will be back safe and sound, you mark my words."

Helen smiled, and eased into the seat a little.

Just then, the front door opened. She rushed out into the hall.

"James," she sighed, relieved. She went to him and helped him off with his coat.

"Hello, darling," he said, cheerfully. "Sorry I'm late. Tris wanted to stop off at the Drover's Arms. I thought it would only be for a few minutes." He had taken off his coat now, and hung it up, still looking at his wife. "Eventually I had to just leave him there. A right state he was in too!"

"But how will he get home, then?"

"Oh, he's got the car." James put his arm around her waist and began to lead her upstairs. "I walked back. That's why it took me so long."

"But James, it's awfully far."

"I know. I'm awfully tired. And I want to get to bed."

 

* * *

 

 

"Morning, Siegfried," said James, entering the living area.

"Good morning, James. Had a good sleep, I trust?"

"Yes, thanks." He sat down at the table and poured himself some tea. "What time did Tris get in in the end?"

"Oh, goodness knows. After I went to bed."

James laughed. "A lie-in for him this morning, then."

"Not if I can help it," said Siegfried, getting up.

James smiled to himself as his partner left the room, and picked up the newspaper.

Mrs. Hall had just come in with James' breakfast when Siegfried came storming down the stairs again.

"He never came home!" he bellowed, bursting into the room. "That scoundrel has completely shirked his responsibilities. He spared not a thought for his work, not to mention the people people who are… relying one him, who may be worrying about him, who have utterly no idea where he may be." He lowered his voice a little as he sat down. "You know, I may actually kill him this time, James?"

James smiled. "Not to worry, Siegfried, I'll go out and find him after breakfast."

"Would you? Thank you, James. And when you find him, would you make sure he knows what's coming to him?"

 

* * *

 

 

James parked up next to the Drover's Arms and looked around. No sign of the car; Tristan had definitely left last night.

The public house seemed to be open, even at this time of day. James got out of the car and went in. One or two patrons sat sombrely in corners alone, quietly nursing their drinks. They stared at James as he walked up to the bar, and he smiled uncertainly back.

"Ay-up, Mr. 'erriot. What'll it be?"

James smiled again, resting his hands on the bar. "Nothing for me, thanks. I'm here to ask about Tristan."

"Young Mr. Farnon?"

"Yes, that's right. He was here last night, wasn't he?"

"Aye, that's right. If I remember rightly you were too, Mr. 'erriot."

"Yes. But I left."

"Aye, I remember. Had to throw Mr. Farnon out, Mr. 'erriot."

"Throw him out?" said James, surprised. "Why, whatever did he do?"

"Didn't do nothin', Mr. 'erriot. But he were gettin' too drunk, like. He were a danger to 'imself, like."

"I see. What time was this?"

"Just past midnight."

"Oh, alright. Thanks very much."

"No problem, Mr. 'erriot."

 

* * *

 

 

Tristan's head was pounding, and he groaned. Dear dear, how much had he had to drink last night? Everything ached, and he was crammed up against something hard, but his head… He groggily forced one of his eyes open. Ugh. There was too much light. He closed his eye again, and tried to moisten his mouth. Nothing happened. He needed to find some water.

He tried to roll over, hoping that someone had been kind enough to leave him a glass. Perhaps James, or Helen. Or Mrs. Hall. Certainly not Siegfried. Odd. He couldn't roll over. Because he was crammed against the hard thing. And his leg was trapped in something. Oh damn the light, he would have to open his eyes so that he could find what the devil was going on.

Ah. Oh dear. Oh, he was really for it this time. He heard himself give out a little whimper.

He had completely and utterly destroyed the car. He couldn't see the full damage yet, not while he was inside, but even from here he could tell it was bad. The front window had completely shattered. The roof, the hard thing that he was half lying on, was completely dented. The front of the car must be completely crushed, because his leg was trapped in twisted metal.

That was the first time Tristan thought of himself rather than the car and what Siegfried would do to him. Slowly, tremulously, he reached his hand up to his pounding head. Agh, it was tender. The hair at the back of his head was dry, and crusted. The top of his head, the tenderest part, was sticky. He knew. He knew even before he brought his hand back. But the red stain on his fingers still caused another whimper to escape from his lips as he stared at it.

He shifted into a more comfortable position on the roof, so that he was lying on his side. And then he waited.

 

* * *

 

 

James went back to the car, uncertain of what to do next. Tristan was drunk. If he hadn't have gone home, where would he have gone?

In the end, he decided to drive in the opposite direction to Skeldale House. Afterall, he hadn't seen Tristan on the way over, and what good was there in retracing his steps? He pulled out into the road again and drove along at a steady pace.

After half an hour, he decided to turn back, and see if Tristan had turned up at Skeldale. However, as he reversed onto a grass bank, something caught his eye. A tire, the same as was on the car Tristan was driving. Surely Tristan hadn't changed the tire drunk? Still, it was worth investigating.

He got out of the car and went over. No, no one had changed this tire, he thought, turning it over. There's still part of the axel attached. But what was possibly strong enough to actually pull off a tire?

He straightened up, perplexed, and leant against the cobbled stone wall in thought. He glanced absent-mindedly over his shoulder. He did a double-take and spun round.

"Tris!"

He vaulted the wall and ran over to the car. It was upside down. Dear Lord, what on Earth had happened?

Down on hands and knees, James peered through the window. "Tris?" His voice wavered a little as he tapped on the window. "Tristan?"

Tristan's eyes opened almost lazily. When he saw his friend, he closed his eyes again and moved his head away a little. "James," he moaned, miserably. "Look what I've done."

"Tris, are you alright?"

He opened his eyes again and looked straight into James'. "Siegfried is going to kill me, isn't he?"

"If I'm perfectly honest, Tris, I think you've done quite a good job of that yourself. Can you get out?"

"My leg's stuck," said Tristan, mournfully.

"Right." James stood up.

Tristan twisted, trying to see him through the window. "Where are you going? Don't leave me here, James."

"I'm afraid I have to. I won't be long. I just need to find the nearest house and use their phone."

"What? Don't call Siegfried, James, I'm begging you, he'll fire me again."

"I'm not calling Siegfried yet. I'm calling an ambulance."

"An ambulance? I miss work on top of destroying the car, I really will be for it."

Suddenly James' face could be seen through the window again, and it looked annoyed.

"For goodness sake, Tris, stop worrying about Siegfried and take a look at yourself, would you?" And then he was gone.

 

* * *

 

 

It was three hours since James had left Skeldale house when the phone rang. Helen answered it.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Helen? It's James."

"James! Where on Earth have you been? Did you find Tristan?"

"…Yes, I found Tristan."

"…What's wrong?"

"Helen!" Siegfried came out into the hall, so Helen could not hear James' answer. "Nnyes, I thought I heard the phone. Is it James?"

Helen nodded. Siegfried took the phone from her.

"Helen..? Are you still there?"

"It's Siegfried, James. Did you tell him?"

James lowered his eyebrows. "Tell who what?"

"For goodness sake, did you tell Tristan what's coming to him?"

"Oh! Well, in all honesty Siegfried, he didn't have to be told. You see -"

"He's done something really bad, hasn't he?" said Siegfried, in a low, disapproving voice.

"Well, yes, he -"

"I bet he didn't want to come home either, I'll be bound."

"No, but he -"

"Now James, you tell him -"

"Siegfried, he was in a car accident!" burst out James. His voice sounded angry and upset, and not like he thought it would have. Several people in the reception looked at him.

"…What?"

"He -" James started almost as loudly. He exhaled through his nose and calmed himself down. "It looks like he drove into a wall and flipped over it."

"Is it repairable?"

"Siegfried!" James was shouting again, but this time he didn't care. "I am calling you from a hospital because your brother is badly injured! If you would just stop thinking about the car -" He stopped, then. Partly because he didn't know how to finish the sentence. Partly because he now felt horribly self-conscious and guilty.

"Siegfried -" he started. His mouth carried on moving, but no sound came out. "Siegfried, I…"

On the other end of the line, Helen looked in consternation at Siegfried's paling face.

"Siegfried," she said, earnestly. She pulled at his sleeve. "What is it?"

Siegfried stood perfectly still, staring straight ahead. He didn't seem to hear her. "Hospital…"

Helen's face changed starkly. "Hospital? Who's in hospital?"

He hung up the phone quickly and pulled on his coat. He started out the door.

"Siegfried, tell me what's happening!"

"Tristan's injured," he said, a little dazedly.

"What…? …But… Why, we have to get there."

"My dear Helen, what do you think I am doing?"

"But we haven't got a car."

"I'll walk!"

Helen stopped as Siegfried reached the gate. "Siegfried!" She looked over her shoulder, biting her lip. "Siegfried, wait a moment!"

She hurried back into the house, and into the waiting room. She was relieved to see a familiar face.

"Mrs. Bond! It's good to see you. Boris with you today?"

"Yes, that's right. Time for his nails to be trimmed."

"Oh good, nothing urgent then. Do you -"

"I'd say it's rather urgent, Mrs. Herriot. I've been getting awful scratches off him recently."

Helen forced what she hoped was a sympathetic smile. "Oh dear. Mrs. Bond, I was wondering if you'd mind awfully if Siegfried and I were to borrow your car? There's a bit of an emergency."

"Oh, aye? And what's wrong with your cars?"

Helen looked out of the window. Siegfried was nowhere in sight. She turned back to Mrs Bond and forced another smile. "Well, you see, one car I don't know where it is, and the other, I believe, is at the hospital."

Mrs Bond's face broke in understanding. "O'course, Mrs. Herriot."

"Thank you," said Helen, smiling genuinely. She turned to leave.

"Oh, and Mrs. Herriot?"

"Yes?"

"I hope everything turns out alright."

Helen smiled once more, then disappeared.

 

* * *

 

"James, where is he? Is he alright?"

James, who had been standing in the reception of the hospital with one hand behind his head, took Helen into his arms as she ran over. Siegfried appeared some moments later, striding over with an unreadable expression on his face.

"He's alright. Just a large scratch on the head, a twisted ankle, and a fair few bruises. Otherwise he's fine." He looked up at Siegfried as he reached them. "He's very lucky."

The older vet seemed not to have heard him, and instead eyed him distractedly. "Where did you say the car was?"

James gritted his teeth lightly as he answered, shooting Siegfried a look. "It's where it went over, Siegfried. I was more worried about Tristan, if I'm honest."

"And you say he's alright?"

"Perfectly fine. Just a little bashed up."

Siegfried nodded awkwardly. "Good."

 

* * *

 

 

Siegfried slipped silently into his younger brother's room. Tristan lay in the bed, eyes shut. The older man smiled a little – he looked so young, so like he did when they were teenagers. Except now he could clearly see stitches in his forehead, and a lightly bandaged left hand.

Slowly, deliberately, he moved over to the bed.

"Oh, Tristan," he sighed, shaking his head a little as he stood looking at him. He looked furtively towards the door, before sitting himself lightly on the side of the bed. He placed a hand on top of Tristan's good one, looking, a little sadly, at his face, and slowly stroked it with his thumb.

"Tristan, Tristan, Tristan." He shook his head again, and his eyes settled on his knees.

"You know, little brother, I have actually come to expect this of you?" He was met with silence. "I'll admit, this is probably the worst thing you've done, but you've done things in the same vein."

Siegfried looked at his brother's face again. Unresponsive. Unconscious. He sighed again, and looked once more towards the door, before returning his gaze.

"I do care about you, you know," he said quietly. "You  _are_  my brother, after all, my  _little_ brother. It's my job to look after you, but I do wish you wouldn't make it so all-encompassing. I have other things to worry myself with."

Silence.

His eyes prickled, so he looked instead up to the ceiling as he continued.

"I  _do_  care about you," he said, again. "And if you continue doing these stupid, ridiculous -"

"Siegfried?"

Siegfried leapt up, blinking away tears rapidly, turning on his heel so that he faced his brother again, who was now propped up on his good arm, looking at him blearily.

"Siegfried?" Tristan said, again, less confused this time.

"Ah, Tristan. So good of you to join us. I suppose you realise what you've done?"

Tristan sighed and frowned, biting his lip. "So I crashed the car. I didn't mean to, Siegfried, I'm sorry. Don't you think I regret it?"

Siegfried lowered his chin to his chest, looking at the younger man in apparent disapproval. "Evidently not. You have been  _lying_ here a full" - he checked his watch – "three hours after you were told you could leave."

"I was asleep!"

"You often are."

They stared at each other, one indignant, one disapproving, until Tristan sighed again. "I'll fix the car," he said, appeasingly, eyebrows raised. "How bad could it be?"

Siegfried held the edge of his jacket, expression unchanged. "James says it's irreparable,"

" _James!_ Damn and blast, he must be awfully annoyed at me. I really think I must have given him a fright. Helen, too, I suppose."

Now it was Siegfried's turn to be indignant. "And why isn't your own brother included in that list?"

Tristan scoffed, looking him up and down. "You don't exactly look devastated, Siegfried."

"No…" said Siegfried, thoughtfully. "No I suppose I don't." He laughed.

"What?"

He forced himself to frown again. "Nothing, nothing. Well, little brother, I do not have time to spend my day giving you the reprimanding you deserve, you see  _someone_ has to do our job. And I assume Mrs. Bond would like her car back."

"Mrs. Bond? Why did you have Mrs. Bond's car?"

"Well how  _else_ were we to get here? You crashed the good car, and James took the piece of rubbish out looking for you."

"You mean James has been here the whole time?" Tristan creased his brow. "Well I say, that was awfully decent of him."

"He was worried about you," said Siegfried, airily, heading for the door. He opened it and walked through, but before he shut it behind him he leaned back into the room, and looked dead at his brother. "We all spend most of our time worrying about you."

 

* * *

 

 

Later, back at Skeldale House, James and Tristan sat on the sofa together, each with a glass of water in their hand.

"You know, it's the damnedest thing, James," continued Tristan, taking a tentative sip. James looks towards him. "There was a second when I first woke up, I could have sworn there was someone sitting on my bed, but the next thing I know there's just Siegfried standing there shouting his head off at me. I think I must have imagined it." He finished his drink and itched at the bandage on his hand. "Right. I'm off to bed, I think." He got up, taking the deep mahogany walking stick that lay near to him, and hobbled over to the door. "Night!"

"Night," called James, after him. He looked down at his own empty glass, and smiled to himself. He supposed he would have to apologise to Siegfried.


End file.
